


Aftershocks

by seperis



Series: On Love and Lust at Mutant High [12]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-03-01
Updated: 2001-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-10 08:36:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seperis/pseuds/seperis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which St. John gets way too involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Take One

**Author's Note:**

> There are only two absolutes in stories--a beginning and an end. So I decided to be different and start at the end. We'll get to the beginning later. Thanks to Sare for the beta and the good advice.
> 
> Note: This was originally posted as three separate fics. I'm posting them here as three parts of a single story, since they more or less are.

It was five in the morning and St. John had gotten exactly, no more than, but exactly, one hour of sleep that night. He was grumpy, tired, and on that fine edge of exhaustion and hyper-energetic, and he felt himself quiver as he used his foot to coax the chair from behind his desk and sit down.

Sitting was good. Laying down would be even better, but he knew himself well enough to know that the second he was prone, he'd be out like a light, no matter his emotional state. Which, considering he had to be up in less than an hour for kitchen duty, was probably not the brightest idea.

And why the hell did everyone come to his room? Shit, they had rooms of their own. They wanna have a war council, they could damn well do it somewhere else.

"We got a problem."

Remy and Kitty had shown up only a few minutes before, suspiciously at the same time, but Jubilee, stretched out on his bed, didn't react, so he had to assume either she didn't care (which damn it, she did, he knew she did) or that she'd just been earlier than them. Currently, she was searching under his bed for snack food (she knew he kept a constant supply for emergency munchie-moments), and emerged with a bag of potato chips clutched triumphantly in one hand. He wasn't even sure they were good anymore--on the other hand, they were sealed up in a foil baggy, so maybe potato chips were like Twinkies and lasted forever. Who knew?

"Does anyone know when they left?" asked Kitty, pulling herself up by Jubilee and helping herself to a chip. Dollars to donuts neither of them had been asleep all night either--though he doubted that Rogue had anything to do with the first few hours. Kitty had been practicing her sleight of hand for future shoplifting endeavors since the Mall Incident (more put out by the fact she'd failed than the entire punishment business). Hell, he knew Jubes was still sort of pissed she hadn't been able to go. Probably thought if she'd been there, it would have gone smoother. Which it very well might have--Jubes could talk them out of any situation under the sun.

"Nope. After dinner--I ate with her and she seemed fine," said St. John quietly, kicking absently at the bed before bracing a foot on the mattress and balancing himself on the back legs, using the desk to brace the back of the chair. "So was Bobby--they said they were going to the library and do some research."

Oddly, they took that at face value. He had to wonder about their perception.

"Okay. So they disappeared after dinner, but before bedchecks at midnight."

Their punishment for the Mall Incident had been curious in its creativity. Mandatory lights-out at nine (which was easy to avoid), bedchecks at midnight, bedchecks at three (easy, again, and he suspected Xavier knew that), up at six for kitchen duty (whoo-hoo). Their mornings still belonged to Logan, but their afternoons now belonged to Mr. Summers, who taught a class on ethics (God help them), after which everyone but Rogue had about two hours of relatively free time before dinner. Relatively being the key word--the rec room or their own rooms, under direct adult supervision--and St. John and Co put their foot down at the idea of any of the teachers sitting in their rooms, so it was the rec room, period. Restriction to not just campus but the mansion itself. No shopping, no cruising, no going outside to go swimming. Period.

Rogue, lucky her, didn't even get that--her extra sessions with Logan had been extended until fifteen minutes before dinner, and after that, she had her usual sessions with the Professor twice a week. Though she wasn't complaining, and St. John supposed that if the Professor's idea of punishment was to make her stay in Logan's company, Rogue was definitely rethinking the merits of a criminal lifestyle in a favorable light.

The Professor definitely had an odd sense of humor. Had to give him credit.

"How'd you cover for Bobby at nine?" asked Kitty curiously. St. John shrugged.

He's not on restriction," St. John answered coolly. He was the only one that was. Jubilee was still grounded for the candy incident. Good ole Bobby, miniature Mr. Summers, an example to them all of good behavior, and St. John had seen the look of horror on Bobby's face when Mr. Summers had actually said that out loud in front of what seemed to be most of the school at dinner the night they'd been picked up. Bobby, not a bad mark on his record (except for that little spitball-and-plasma incident awhile back, and really, that had been in the name of science). St. John knew Dr. Grey suspected that even if Bobby and Jubes hadn't actually participated in the Mall Incident, they'd known about it (which all four co-conspirators denied), but nothing could be done with suspicions, after all. So Bobby was perfectly within his rights to wander off if he wanted to, though certainly he still had a curfew that required him to be in bed on weekdays by midnight.

This was a weekday. It was five, no Bobby. No Rogue. Therefore, probably together, and St. John bit down on his lip as his eyes circled the room. For once, his mutation was being very quiet--possibly because it suspected that in this particular instance, St. John probably wouldn't be very interested in controlling it.

"How'd you cover for Rogue?" St. John asked Jubilee, trying to sound interested, and Jubilee frowned.

"It was easy, and that's odd--you know Dr. Grey wants visual confirmation and all that. I just turned on the shower when I heard her coming and said she was in there and that Logan had called her late to talk to her, so she'd only just gotten back. She looked all odd and didn't even check, you know? I guess she didn't do any of her telepathic crap either, because she never said a word, just left."

St. John nodded slowly and Kitty pulled out another potato chip, crunching morosely.

"How long 'as Logan been pacin' downstairs?" asked Remy softly.

"Since bedchecks," Kitty stated. "He woke us all up and you're just lucky he didn't think she'd be in your room. He asked us all kinds of questions--seemed really more growly than usual, ya know?"

"Yeah, I imagine. He wasn't too happy to see Bobby gone from our room either." St. John took a breath, let it out evenly. "He asked me three times where he was--like I was hidin' the information or somethin'."

"Which you would have if you knew, and he knows that," Jubilee said practically, ducking her head to check the bag for another chip. "S'okay--we got a thirty minute interrogation from Scooter that was pretty damn funny. Logan ordered the whole house searched and Scooter said he was overreacting to the incident." Jubes looked thoughtful. "Though I gotta wonder--you know Logan doesn't care when Rogue acts out. He didn't even care she was helpin' shoplift, you know, just got pissed that she got caught. And he snuck her out of here after curfew twice so they could play pool in town. So why the hell is he freaking about it now?"

St. John shifted a little and tried to get comfortable. When he looked up, all eyes were on him. Oh wow.

"Huh?" God, did he sound defensive.

"What do you know, Johnny?" asked Jubilee suspiciously. Fuck, they knew him too well. "You're takin' this way too calm, boy-o."

"Nothin'."

Kitty shifted closer, eyes narrowing.

"If you did, you'd never tell on Bobby." Her voice was thoughtful, low. "God knows what's between you and Roguey, but you--"

"There's nothing between me and Rogue."

Jubilee's eyes went down, freezing briefly at his collar.

"You got her lipstick on your shirt, Johnny." A pause. "How'd you get lipstick there?"

St. John started, knowing he looked guilty, and glanced down at the white collar of his shirt. Imprinted it was a smear of red. Definitely in the shape of lips. Definitely, he should have changed clothes, but he hadn't really thought ahead much either.

"Maybe I like lipstick." Oh wow, that was sooo bright. He could talk his way out of a lot of things, but not that lipstick. At this point, he was too close to exhaustion to care.

Remy sat straight, eyes narrowing, and both Kitty and Jubilee as one jumped off his bed. Before he could think--and why the hell had he let them sit on his bed without checking it first?--they jerked back the sheets and Remy stood up, slowly walking over to see the smears of lipstick across the sheet and he knew they could smell the very lightest trace of her perfume.

And there was no way he could talk his way out of that perfume or that sheet.

"Johnny--"

"It's not your business," he said sharply, getting up. Before he got five inches, Kitty was blocking the door, arms crossed over her chest, watching him, dawning suspicion on her face. Jubilee took his right, and Remy was already moving into center.

"Logan was in here for awhile--he smelled somethin', didn't he? What the fuck is goin' on, Johnny?" Jubes said slowly, working it out. "You know somethin'. You know where they are."

"Fuck if I do." He was bracketed--wow, they really were learning from Logan, this was a classic attack pattern. All he had was the wall behind him. "They left, I wished their asses well, and that's all there is to it. You wanna make somethin' more, feel absolutely free to get the fuck outta my room to do it."

Even he was surprised by that last line, and blinked at himself, wondering when he became the type of person to take out his anger on someone else. Kitty drew back as if he'd hit her, but Jubilee reacted true to type. Grabbing her shoes from beside his bed, she turned to the door

"Gotcha, babe. Fuck yourself, Johnny. I don't need this crap. We'll find out on our own. If you don't feel like puttin' out the energy to be worried that they disappeared without tellin' a person where the fuck they'll be, you just sit here and we'll do the work. Got it?"

"Trust me, Jubes, they're fine. Rogue's gettin' a little practice in on Bobby and he's stupid enough to fall for it."

Their reaction was nothing short of shock.

"She's not into him like that."

"She changed her mind, apparently. You see them 'round here?" St. John wanted them to leave, leave now--his temperature was rising, because they were making him think about it, and he couldn't do that right now, he just couldn't. Running his palms down his pajama bottoms, knowing the burn wouldn't stop until he could center himself, he took a breath, trying to bring everything under control. Keep his voice even. "They left--I don't know where, but I do know why. She wants to fuck around with Drake, she fucking can. I'm not her keeper and I'm not his. So I don't give a good fuck what they do. So get the hell outta my room and leave me the hell outta it, 'kay? You wanna play private eye and cater to Rogue's little personality quirks, feel oh so fucking free, because I'm done with it, got it?"

"Johnny--"

What the fuck would it take?

"Get the fuck out, Kittycat. All of you. I'm not interested--I don't care. Get it this time? I. Don't. Care. Get out."

For a second, he almost thought they might stay. But Jubilee, clutching her shoes, turned on her heel, grabbing Kitty by the arm and pushing the door open. One glance from Kitty, before Remy blocked his view, and then the door closed with ominous care, and St. John sat down on his bed, shutting his eyes tight and hating, hating, hating, that anything could make him feel like this.

"Fuck her if she wants to play like that."

Talking to himself couldn't be a sign of anything good, but he didn't much care about that either. Laying back down, he rolled until he buried his head in the pillow, still smelling the lingering traces of Rogue's perfume.


	2. Take Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which St. John finds out more than he wanted to.

St. John wondered what in the name of God could be so fascinating about a library this late at night. Given, Rogue had asked Bobby, smiling and leaning over to expose quite an interesting amount of cleavage there (so St. John looked, it wasn't a big deal, he was a guy, those were breasts, and sometimes, Rogue didn't wear a bra). Frankly, if Rogue had asked him to help her look something up, he would have probably said yes in very much the same breathless voice as Bobby.

Given, she didn't, so he could be really amused at Bobby's expense and laugh over his mashed potatoes. Where Bobby wouldn't see, of course.

She said she was fine, and he believed her. Rogue didn't brood, period. Not when she could help it, definitely. So she was fine, and he believed her. Was gonna ask her, however, when she and Bobby got done, if she was at all interested in a work-out downstairs. He could see even now the twitch of her hands, a sure sign that she needed to vent and really, was there a better way to release aggression by kicking someone's ass? So she really couldn't kick his yet--she was getting quickly and steadily better and it was becoming a real challenge to win. Which was fun--Rogue was a hell of a lot more focused when she fought than anyone he'd ever met, and she rarely fell for the same trick twice. Only real thing working against her was her weight and her height, and Logan was teaching her how to compensate for that pretty damn well.

Now pushing nine, he knew bedchecks were coming soon, and Rogue would be turning in and sending Bobby home like a good little puppy. And he was definitely gonna be having that talk with Bobby. He'd even practiced it--sort of. Well, thought it through. Still no idea how it would begin--or how it would end--but the middle was along the lines of could Bobby get around to getting over Rogue and maybe consider that St. John wasn't playing this time around? Maybe?

Rolling over, St. John kicked his bedspread and bunched his pillow up in frustration. So he was a guy--guys just didn't have this conversation. Girls did--they usually started it off, leaving appropriate openings for the guys to throw something out, then it was all left up to the girl to make sense of it. He should have asked Jubes--oh yeah, that would be all kinds of fun, Jubes, how exactly do I go about telling Bobby I'd just really love it if he'd stop salivating over Rogue and maybe salivate over me for awhile? Jubes would give him a patient look and just tell him to say it like that, and no, he wasn't going to say it like that. Though God, he really couldn't think of a better way.

So guys should never have to initiate this sort of thing. That was a given. But he would have to, and if he wanted to get Bobby's attention before the kid fell asleep--or worse, have the conversation before Bobby passed out from sheer boredom while St. John struggled--well, he'd better have something ready.

Maybe jump him at the door. Hmm.

No, that wouldn't work. St. John hit his pillow again and growled--shit, they were learning way too much from Logan, period. Jumping Bobby wouldn't work. One, he'd promised himself that he would not, would *_not*_, do anything with Bobby that fell into the sexual or semi-sexual arena until Bobby got over Rogue. Two--well, before he'd made that resolution, he was jumping ole Drake every chance he got, and it really hadn't penetrated Bobby that maybe it was more than late night fun and games.

Hmm. Okay, jumping was out. It would have to be conversation. Fuck.

Oooh, a note. St. John sat up, considering that. Maybe he could write it if he couldn't say it, leave it someplace for Bobby to find. But that just edged on something from teen-angst television, and anyway, if he couldn't think of a damned thing to say, writing it would be worse. Much worse.

So, no jumping, no note. That still left him with a talk, and he still didn't have the words, and damn, it was nine, where the hell was Bobby?

A knock at the door brought him up straight and he saw Mr. Summers do a quick check--hey sir, here I am, everything's good, you know? Being a good little student in bed. Mr. Summers gave him a nod and the door closed.

Still no Bobby, it was definitely nine, and Rogue was gonna get her ass kicked royally for breaking lights-out.

Softly, the door opened, and a head peeked in. Definitely not Bobby. Long hair, a gloved hand gripping the edge of the door, the hall lights around her. Rogue was pretty easy to identify.

"Johnny?"

"Hey Roguey. Shit, babe, you're gonna get in some trouble if you get caught."

"Aw, fuck it. Jubes'll cover for me. What, you want me to leave?"

"Nah. Where's Bobby?"

Carefully, Rogue slid inside, pushing the door shut behind her.

"He ran into town to pick up a few things." Oddly, Rogue lingered by the door, then started playing with her scarf. Watching him, which was all kinds of weird and not a little creepy, before she finally seemed to make a decision. Her hand slid up to her throat and began to unknot her scarf.

"Um, Rogue, whatcha doin'?" He felt himself shift his feet to the floor as she stopped by the lamp he'd been using earlier, flipping it on with one gloved hand, then stepping back, still comfortably in the warm light. The scarf she laid on the bedside table, then she met his eyes, her fingers sliding down and beginning to unbutton her shirt. "Rogue--"

"Come on, Johnny." Low, the light drawl thickening her voice as she unbuttoned her jeans, letting them fall onto the floor. Beneath, he could see the silk bodysuit, but she didn't move for a moment, just watching him, then stepped out of them, kicking the jeans aside.

"Rogue-"

"You wanna play?" Leaning a little, she picked up her scarf, leaving her shirt on, before she took another step toward him, and he hadn't even known he was sitting up until he felt her crawl onto his lap, a knee on either side of his hips. "You scared of me, sugar?"

"No," he breathed. Didn't know how his hands got to her waist, sliding up over the shirt before back down, resting briefly on her hips. "Rogue. It's not--"

He felt the silky scarf trail across his throat, then through it, her damp mouth and his entire body went still, hands locked on her hips. She shifted a little, placing herself over his erection, and all the blood in his body went south and stayed there. Then a slow rocking, and St. John got a hand in her hair, pulling her mouth up, staring into her eyes.

"What are you doin'?" he whispered. She smiled, one hand on his shoulder, pushing him back on the bed and bracing herself over him. He couldn't read a thing on her face at all.

"I thought you'd done this before, sugar." She laughed softly and settled herself again, beginning a slow rocking. "I'll be careful, Johnny. Trust me."

Oh, he wasn't worried about that. The scarf was carefully placed over his mouth, then a kiss--almost chaste, and he turned her head a little, feeling her open her mouth and God, this was damned interesting, more than he'd ever suspected. And the feel of those leather-gloved hands sliding under his shirt, up his bare chest over his shoulders, while she continued that slow rocking that was driving everything out of his mind but--

\--but God, she felt good. He pushed the shirt back, pulling it off her, rolling on his side so he had easier access, running curious fingers over the body beside him through the silk bodysuit. Trailing a hand across her breast, and she hissed softly.

"Yeah, Johnny," she whispered. "That works." Then an arm locked around his back and damn, one condom and three seconds, he could be inside her, and he wanted it, wanted it now. No, not now, make this fun. Sliding her down, he leaned over, pulling the scarf over her mouth to kiss her again, taste her through silk, so different from any other kiss he'd ever had, and she locked a leg around his knee, pulling him closer.

"Rogue--"

"Don't stop, don't think--"

"Rogue--" God, she wasn't supposed to be here, where was Bobby? He felt her hands drop to the waist of his sweatpants, running absently over his thigh, getting a feel for everything she could--

"Look--" God, that was good, she had good hands-- "Rogue--," he'd never get a word out if she didn't stop touching him, if she didn't stop tasting so good, if she didn't purr with every stroke of his hands, tracing the curve of her waist, cupping her breast and her head went back, extending her throat. Pulling the scarf down, he licked at the silk-covered skin and she arched against him. "Rogue--"

"Just for fun, Johnny. It doesn't have--God, yes, sugar--doesn't mean anything."

Which was fine--didn't mean anything. He slid down a little farther, rocking against her to get that shudder that was addictive to watch, nipping at the skin of her chest. Sex didn't have to mean anything. Two friends, having sex--he could deal with that. No problem. Bobby was out somewhere, it was just a--

Bobby was out somewhere, he had been with Rogue--he didn't leave her voluntarily, therefore Rogue sent him into town.

Through his shirt, Rogue's nails dug in when he reached a nipple, biting softly before running his fingers down her side, resting briefly at her hip. Even through silk, she tasted fantastic, and he'd never had a lover this responsive, this fast.

Rogue was in a bodysuit, Bobby was in town. It didn't mean anything, it didn't mean--

"Johnny--" A low gasp when he skated to her other breast, the silk growing damp from sweat and his mouth. He liked it, liked the taste and smell of her, how she moved under him. Even Bobby--

Fuck, couldn't his mind shut down and let him enjoy this? He lifted up on his elbow, grinding against her sharply, pulling the scarf back over her mouth and kissing her again, feeling her move up against him, how warm she was, how soft. How delicious. How--

\--how she sent Bobby to the store. She hadn't been wearing a bodysuit at dinner. He'd seen the shirt she was wearing, and she'd shown cleavage. No bodysuit. Bobby went to the stores, she went to her room, changed clothes. Came in here.

"Good, Johnny." Tiny pants he could feel against his hair and her nails through her gloves skating across his stomach under his shirt, making him hiss. Rogue never did anything on impulse. Everything had meaning. Running a hand down her thigh, pulling it up against his hip, his own breath coming too fast. Rogue was Rogue, there was nothing in her that screamed she did anything casually.

Rogue thought through everything. She planned things and carried through.

One leather-covered hand slid in his sweatpants, finding the line of his boxers, and leather on his cock was better than anything--oh God, that was good, that was good, why the hell was she doing this? The leg around his locked, a hand on his shoulder, and he was on his back, trying to breathe through the sensation, it was sooo fucking good--

"You like that sugar?" A long stroke and how could he possibly _*not*_ like that, how good it felt, how wonderful, God she was good--but hell, she'd had Remy and all of Logan's memories and she knew more than probably anyone else at the Mansion. Oh it was good, it was so good, she was good--

"God, yes."

\--she'd had Remy to get the experience to match her memories, to put into practice what she knew in theory. Rogue always had a reason. He looked up at her, dark eyes, dark hair, practiced hands knowing everything, her mouth coming down on his collar over his shirt, biting slightly--

"Rogue, babe--"

"That's it, sugar. That's it--" He traced her back through the silk, across her ass, down over her thigh and sliding between her legs, careful of the opening, wondering where his gloves were--

Rogue didn't believe in casual. Rogue always had a reason, and it always went back to one thing, one person--

It took everything in him to grab her hand, pull it out of his sweatpants--oh God, what the fuck are you doin', Johnny? What the fuck does it matter? She looked up, he could read surprise there, surprise and something else. But he'd played proxy for Bobby, and he couldn't face this, face making himself into a proxy for--

"This is about Logan, isn't it?"

She froze. Just for a second, but it gave everything away and he somehow got his other hand up, pushing her away, moving away from the bed, unable to look at her. Running his hands down his body roughly, still feeling her touch him, aroused and sick and angry all at the same time.

"What does it matter? It's just sex, Johnny."

If it meant nothing, or it meant something he could live with. He couldn't live with this.

"I won't be a substitute. And I won't be your personal method of revenge. You won't leave this room and let him smell me all over you."

She didn't move for a second.

"Why do you care? What do you think he'll do, call you out? Kick your ass in class tomorrow?"

No, he didn't care, but really, that thought hadn't occurred to him before. Fuck.

"He doesn't want me, Johnny. Not like that, so it doesn't matter."

"If it didn't matter, you'd never come to me." He was breathing too heavily and his body was wondering if he'd just lost his mind, because why the fuck did he care? "If it didn't matter, you'd go to anyone, but you came here." He looked at her now, seeing the smeared lipstick, the clench of her fists. "If it didn't matter, you wouldn't wear his shirt when you came here. So he could smell it when he got it back, so he could smell you and me and this."

She sat up now, slowly--methodical Rogue, didn't lose her temper, didn't act out of anger, though now she was, she really was, even if she wouldn't believe it, even if she thought she was being just as cool as always. She was two steps beyond angry, and nothing less could have made her try this, take advantage of their friendship. He had to believe that, had to believe it right now, that nothing else, for no other reason, would she do this to him.

"You don't mind playing proxy for Bobby," she whispered, and he shut his eyes, entire body stiffening.

"Get out." Get out, before he started screaming, before the sudden heat he felt rise up in him started getting beyond his control, before he admitted to anyone, especially her, that maybe when he touched Bobby, Bobby was thinking about Rogue.

He heard her quiet movements as she got dressed, absently tying her scarf back around her throat, picking up Logan's shirt from the floor. Fully dressed, she paused and he thought she might say something else, something that he couldn't handle--something to make him break right now, God, shut up Rogue, keep your fucking mouth shut. There was a quiet knock at the door before it opened abruptly, and Bobby came in, frowning a little to see him standing there.

"Hey, you still up, Johnny?" His eyes lit on Rogue and he smiled--never seeing the mess of the bed, the mess of St. John standing perfectly still in the middle of the room. "Hey Rogue. Couldn't find you in your room--Jubes said you hadn't come back yet."

"Just waitin' for you, Bobby," she drawled, and St. John watched her slowly walk over to Bobby, that smile on her face, the one where men would fall over themselves to see. "Come on--let's go break some serious student conduct rules. See ya, Johnny-boy."

"You wanna come, Johnny?" But Bobby didn't even look at him and Rogue had a gloved hand against Bobby's shoulder, blue eyes focused on her completely, and for an insane second, St. John almost said yes. Yes, hell yes, he was coming, this wasn't happening, Rogue wouldn't do this to him, or to Bobby. But she would, this wasn't the same girl he spent every day with, this wasn't the girl he went clubbing with and had slept beside and woken up from nightmares.

"No," he heard himself choke out, and he never was even sure Bobby heard him, as Rogue walked out, Bobby like a dog in heat behind her, watching the sway of her ass as they went out the door. Softly closing, and St. John stood perfectly still, trying to breathe through the rage. Temperature rising and he spun on his heel, needing an object--shit, nothing here--focus, concentrate--then going into the bathroom, flipping the shower on cold and standing under it fully dressed as it evaporated the second it got too close to him, kicking the drain closed so maybe the tub would fill up a little and he could sit very still and find his center.

It didn't control him. Beneath his feet he felt the porcelain heating up, knew the pipes were going too--it didn't control him--water didn't get close enough to even sprinkle his skin--it didn't control him--he knew this, he learned from this, he wasn't, he wasn't--

Stop. Breathe. Hands clenched at his sides, breathing out while everything twisted and he worked his will, forcing calm, forcing control, forcing anger down and away and nothing and no one was worth losing everything he'd worked to achieve. Nothing.

She didn't do that. She would do that. She did do that, and she was doing it right now. Leaning back against tiles that were slowly becoming hotter and hotter, St. John shut his eyes and sank down, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his head on his knees, saying his mantra over and over, hot water turned to hot damp air rushing over him.


	3. Take Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which St. John sees something he doesn't like.

So he had a headache and didn't want to watch TV in the rec room with the others. That wasn't normal? Or it could be Bobby was watching him with that curious mix of confusion and wariness that just made no sense, or maybe he was just too fucking confused to even put two words together in a sentence and make them come out right. He left the rec room and went wandering around the Mansion--so it wasn't strictly the terms of his in-house probation, he could deal with that. Send out the cavalry, the boy is on the loose. Shit, even his sense of humor was fucked up.

So he was playing the avoidance game. He could do that. Just looking at Bobby reminded him that he really couldn't put this off much longer. He had no good reason not to wander back in there, pull the boy into a corner, and throw out a few thoughts on the subject of relationship--perhaps relationships between two best friends. Would that be so difficult? Of course not. Start simple. I--like--you. Fuck, teen melodrama. Go again. Bobby, how about that little messing-around thing we're doing becoming somewhat permanent and very exclusive? Hmm. Bobby, we could trade up for one very large bed instead of two small ones. Ew.

This so wasn't working, and not working on so many levels.

Rogue still had forty-five minutes left in her session with Logan and he figured that maybe they wouldn't mind if he watched for awhile--well, if they weren't doing the meditation thing, though St. John had some definite points of curiosity as exactly how Logan would look sans clothing.

He figured, from Rogue's blush, pretty damn good. If Logan coaxed her clothes off her too, the two of them could make some serious money in the voyeurism trade. Hiding a grin, and his mood was improving, even if he had no idea what to do about the whole 'talk to Bobby' situation, he trotted down to the other end of the Mansion, studying the design. To think this had once been a single-family residence. You practically needed an alternate mode of transportation to get from one side to the other--bus, car, golf cart, something. Rich people apparently needed a lot of space. He had to wonder what the function of some of the rooms was--did someone really _*need*_ eight living rooms and five dining rooms? Maybe. Just maybe.

The gym door was open and he pushed in, glancing around idly. No one about--maybe this was a meditation day, in which case they'd be in one of the smaller cubicles. St. John had went with Rogue to the supply cabinet a few days before to pick out candles she could stand having around--she was still sensitive to smell, quite an inheritance from Logan--and in her room had shown him and Jubilee (with clothes, damn it) what exactly Logan had taught her. Different, definitely, but St. John had found it equally relaxing and he liked the candle touch.

"Rogue?" Her bag wasn't out here either, and he shook his head, turning a little, deciding he'd have to find a way to entertain himself. Great. Entertain himself. What the hell would he do? Rec room was so out, just looking at Bobby reminded him of what he should be doing and wasn't, and Kitty and Remy were so depressed by the restriction that he actually felt his mood darken at the thought of seeing them. Plus, they had sucky taste in television--seriously, bad soap operas? No thank you, and he'd never pry the remote from Remy's hand without some serious trouble, and while picking a fight with the guy would be loads of fun, his muscles yelled something that amounted to 'do not abuse further'. He got the hint. He liked his body well enough to not want it to show him the sheer pain it was capable of producing if he disobeyed.

"Johnny!"

He turned, grinning to see her bounce in--how she kept her energy level up so high when she got her ass as kicked as he did in classes just amazed him. Jump, skip, run, he tried to remember the last time he'd seen her just walk anywhere. Which was harder than expected.

"Whatcha doin' here?" Absently, she tightened her ponytail and he took in the look of her in spandex. No one quite wore spandex like Rogue. Sure, it *_looked*_ like second skin on anyone--but sometimes it honestly seemed to _*be*_ second skin on her. He supposed knowing you were pretty much sentenced to a lifetime of covering no matter what, you adapted to it.

"Gonna watch you and Logan work out, but looks like you ain't gonna do it."

"Remy back on those soaps again?" At his nod, Rogue frowned. "He gotta get over that, sugar. His favorite character has been married six times this year."

"Looks like you been watchin' too," St. John snickered.

"Only when there was nothin' else on." A little shrug that almost hid her smile, before she sat down by the door. "Jeanie had some medical supplies she had to pick up and Logan went to help her since Scooter had some account stuff to go over. So no meditation--s'okay, Professor called me in to work with him." A simple smile, pure happiness, lit up her face, that he saw her try to fight down. Nothing could stop the curl of her lips though. "We got somewhere today--the Professor thinks if I practice enough, I may be able to control my skin a little. That I am--lemme find his words--'making rapid progress'." Eyebrow arched, half-mocking herself, but she couldn't hide her hope.

"You will. I got all kinds of faith, babe."

St. John loved the Professor. Always had, from the first day he'd been brought here and those kind hands had placed themselves on his shoulders and taken him in as family. Giving him dinner and showing him around, then handing him over to Bobby, who'd put an arm around his shoulders and told him all about how hot his neighbor Kitty was.

He saw Rogue's delicate flush at what he said and smiled.

"You wanna go see if they're back?" St. John asked, noticing Rogue's glances toward the doors, surreptitious though they were. She cocked her head a little, then nodded.

"The car is back--I saw it out the window when I came in here. Come on--they'll use the kitchen door, it's closer to the elevator." Getting to her feet, she pulled her bag over her shoulder and St. John followed her out. And when Rogue wanted to move fast--well, she did. Too fast, he guessed, when she slid on the newly polished floor and almost slammed into the far wall. Putting her bag down, she giggled softly and gave him a glance, before shooting off as fast as she could toward the kitchen door.

Gym shoes were not known for their fabulous traction on polished wood. Nor, as St. John rapidly discovered, were boots.

St. John dug his heels in and took off after her, hearing her laugh as she slid a little toward the staircase, then righted herself before she toppled over, taking off again.

"You're gettin' slow, sugar," Rogue called, before colliding with the doorframe of the kitchen with a gasp. St. John snickered as he came up on her and she slid inside, he only an inch behind her. Heard what could have been a growl--shit, was he gonna collide with Logan? Oh God, no.

It was only Rogue's sharp gasp that made him look up and stare at the remarkably interesting--and compromising--position that Dr. Grey and Logan were in. Up against the kitchen door, obviously having been doing--er, something--and St. John snapped his gaze to Rogue. Nope, didn't see that, Logan, sir. Nothing at all. Nothing happening in here, I'm looking at my boots.

She said in theory it would be good for them to get over their UST the old fashioned way. Practical might be just a little different.

"Sorry, sugar," Rogue drawled, and St. John glanced up at her quickly. There was nothing on her face except amusement. "Just seein' if you needed any help. Apparently, you don't. See ya, Logan, Dr. Grey." With a twirl on her heel, she turned to the door. "You comin', Johnny?"

Dr. Grey had grabbed a package from the counter, was stepping away, a hand going to her hair to smooth it down, not looking at anyone else. Yes, St. John was ready to go. St. John was, in fact, trying to move as quickly as possible toward the kitchen door that looked way too far away.

"Marie--"

Oh fuck. Logan, don't do it. Don't. Please. Let her go, like now, so I can go too. And please don't notice I'm here. I didn't see a damn thing. Just the linoleum of the floor. It's good linoleum, pretty shade of yellow. Seriously. Dr. Grey did not have you back against that kitchen door. I never saw that. I saw nothing.

"Yeah, sugar?" Perfectly natural, the young woman turned, leaning slightly against the doorframe. St. John found himself taking a step back and away, and Rogue waited. Still calm, still acting like it was no big deal, still perfectly in her own special zone of Rogue calm.

A pause, and really, what could Logan say?

"I'll see you tonight?" Edges of uncertainty--he'd never seen Logan uncertain, ever. Which, okay, so he'd known the guy, what, two and a half weeks? Still, there it was--Logan uncertain, Dr. Grey flushing, and fuck, he wished he'd told Rogue they should really go watch those soap operas. Well, they were watching a soap opera, weren't they? Oh, Johnny, that sense of humor of yours.

"No baseball tonight, sugar, sorry. After dinner, I got some research in the library," Rogue answered easily. "Lights out at nine. I'll see ya at breakfast. 'Kay? You comin', Johnny?"

St. John was coming, and as he got to Rogue's side, her gloved hand closed over his, pulling him quickly into the hall.

"You wanna go to the rec room?" she asked just like always, but something about her face made him wonder.

"You okay, Rogue?"

She shrugged.

"Can't say I'm thrilled, ya know. But that's how it goes. I'll survive."

"Rogue--"

She shook her head sharply, then came to a stop.

"Look, I knew it'd happen sometime, ya know? It's not--" she stopped, frowning a little in thought. "I wish I hadn't seen it. It--it's different. Theory and practice." Another frown. "What I know and what I experience. Two different things." Then a quick shake of her head. "Doncha worry. It's no biggie. So she had him against the wall--doesn't say much about her, does it?"

St. John didn't follow her for a minute and Rogue grinned a little.

"Considerin' she and Scooter thought I was fucking Logan."

Ooh, he hadn't thought about that either. Of course, she shouldn't know that he knew that, because she didn't know he and Kitty had spied on her either. Hmm.

"Bitch."

Rogue's smile came out then.

"Yeah, well, me and Jeanie Grey aren't exactly buddies anyway, so no biggie." A pause, and Rogue expression changed just a little. "I'm gonna go take a nap before dinner--I've had a few bad nights."

St. John stopped, a little startled.

"I thought Logan--"

"Grounded to my room, doncha know." Rogue pulled an amused face. "No problem--Jubes wakes me up before it gets too far. I just gotta sleep more now when I can. Do me a favor, ask Kittycat to wake me up before dinner. See ya, sugar." She crouched for a second, and he realized they'd come to her bag. Throwing it lightly over her shoulder, she skipped forward, turning a little mid-skip to wave, before heading for the main stairs with all that amazing energy--and where the hell did she get it anyway?

Rec room. Great. Looks like he'd be fighting Remy for the remote after all.


End file.
